Hurt
by Monchy
Summary: Anakin hurt. AnixObi slash.


**Hurt**

Anakin hurt.

He always had, since the first moment I put my eyes on him. I tried to replace pain with jealousy, fondness, friendship, passion, love and finally, betrayal, but now, when all I have left are memories I am capable of saying that Anakin hurts.

After the battle at Mustafar there had been no time to think. I knew I had lost him forever, but Padme was giving birth to her children, master Yoda was looking for solutions and there was no time for any other thing. Then the twins came and the trip to Tatooine, that had been a relaxed one, though holding Anakin's child in my arms had given me no peace. It is now, installed in the inhospitable place that Anakin's natal planet is, condemned to this exile, to this defeat and to this lonely watching that everything that has happened falls in my back, screaming at me that it is not a nightmare.

Anakin hurt.

When the little one came into my life, the pain he caused was not intentional, not even direct. Jealousy. An impure and not very recommendable feeling, powerful when it came to the Dark side, but yes, jealousy. The relationship I had with my master wasn't neither the best one, nor the more acceptable one, but we were good friends and above all, he was my mentor, my father. Anakin's appearance in our lives meant that I had to take one foot out to reality, start that step every Jedi took, separating himself from his master. But I wasn't ready. I wanted to stay under Qui-gon's wing, I wanted to get his proud smiles, keep the man that had given me everything. I would like to say that I got over the feeling easily, but the truth is I had no time, since death caught my master sooner than expected, throwing me to life with a big push, never asking if I agreed.

It had hurt that his last wish was for Anakin and not for me. Anakin hurt.

Nevertheless, the child had proven himself adorable. When I accepted to become his master, I put my jealousy away, I ignored the sadness because I knew he had been hurt by Qui-gon's death too and I became master Obi-wan Kenobi without any kind of preparation.

At first, we were just master and padawan, with the years, we were brothers, later, we were lovers.

I believe things got complicated when senator Padme Amidala returned to our lives. Anakin loved her, it was palpable in every one of his pores. I lectured him under the pretence that it was against the Jedi code when the truth was I just wanted to avoid him getting away from me. Because he was. Until that moment I had been his confessor, his friend, his brother, everything, and now there was her. Jealousy. Love. And pain. Anakin hurt.

The first time we made love was a few months before Padme got pregnant. It was aggressive, rough, strong and possessive. I wasn't surprised when I found dry tears on my face when he left, because it hurt. I should have said no, should have screamed at him the nonsense we were committing, but the power Anakin had over me was overwhelming. He knew it.

After that it was all the same, the missions, the rescues, the danger and the friendly teasing, but at nights he circled me with his arms and got whatever he wanted from me. Nonetheless, he went back to her. Because he loved her, I was just… I still don't understand it. I loved him, and even though I never told him, he knew. Every time he took me, he kissed me or touched me, his smile screamed at me of that knowledge, the superiority on his eyes told me that I was his. And it hurt.

Sometimes, while his hands made me tremble, he whispered in my ear how she reacted to the same caresses, how she screamed his name, how she asked for more. I still wonder if he just wanted to hurt me or if that was his way of probing me that no matter what he did I would always be there and that he knew it.

Perhaps that's why his eyes had showed betrayal when I raised my sabre against his. When I saw the recordings at the Temple I couldn't be truly surprised at the knowledge that he was the one behind the attack. I knew the path his heart was taking, his need of power and control; every kiss, every caress had told me of his future. But still, it had hurt obeying Yoda when he sent me looking for him.

I don't know if he loved me or if I was just his favourite toy, but at the most crucial point, Padme was on the floor and it was me who faced him. His eyes talked of pain while our sabres crashed, his words searched for a way to take me with him in his new path. It had hurt putting my principles above him. Anakin hurt. When his body was a part of what it had been, when in his eyes was left only a minimum of what Anakin Skywalker had been, I had wanted to run towards him, hug him, tell him that I would go to Hell for him. But I didn't, I just screamed at him, I reproached him my love, I gave him my soul, getting only a scream of furious hate in return. I convinced myself that what was left there were only the remains of a Sith and not the one that had given meaning to my life.

Anakin had made me feel. Trained as a Jedi since I was a child I had learned to moderate my emotions to the point of getting rid of them, to the point of not needing them. What I had felt for Qui-gon had been somewhat distant because he hadn't allowed himself real attachment. Anakin had made me need, love, hate, scream out of rage, he had made me scream his name in a painful love confession, in desperate frustration, in what had been uncountable orgasms, in the only tears I had allowed myself to shed. Anakin had made me feel, and it hurt.

I guess he loved me in a certain way, and I guess I didn't knew how to correspond him. He had expected me to go after him with closed eyes, he had expected me to allow him to become the master while I took the role of apprentice, but I hadn't been capable of that, because the truth was that the man that had fought me, the one that had smirked watching me beg in bed, wasn't Anakin anymore. Anakin had been that kid that had made me jealous, that irresponsible padawan who I had never scared, that friend that had never left me behind and that lover that had showed occasionally, soft, anxious, the one that had whispered my name with no restrictions.

Anakin had hurt, but I had loved the pain.

FIN.


End file.
